


in crash position when we hit

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scars, killua finally getting a damn hug for all the shit he went through, killugon week 2020, zoldyck family dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: "Killua’s breath comes in desperate, panicked stutters and his pulse pounds in his ears.  He doesn’t know when he started crying, but the tears are hot and thick and heavy down his face.'Do you really want to hear this, Gon?  Really?  Do you want me to tell you more about what they did to me?  No, you don’t!  Because no one wants to fucking hear this!'”For Killugon Week 2020 Day 1: Scars
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 78
Kudos: 705





	in crash position when we hit

**Author's Note:**

> it turns out that i always have to be actively participating in some sort of fandom event in order to feel alive, so when i heard about killugon week like 5 days before it started, i immediately had to drop everything else & write something!!!!
> 
> title is from matthew 25:21 by the mountain goats bc of course it is
> 
> **warning for some relatively detailed description of standard zoldyck family violence/abuse.** the prompt is scars, after all, but if you think that will be upsetting subject matter for you, pls feel free to pass this one over!!
> 
> alright, pls enjoy!!!!

Gon was right. The secret beach is beautiful.

For all of Killua’s reservations about hiking for an hour in the dense Whale Island forest without a footpath, for as much as the summer sun beat down mercilessly overhead, for all the thorns that scratched his calves and ankles, the trip was worth it. The beach is breathtaking and wholly secluded, not another person in sight. Just their own strip of white, soft sand and glistening blue water stretching endlessly towards the horizon. It’s as if they have the whole world to themselves, at least to Killua.

Gon lays out the towels on the sand, humming to himself, and surveys the sea with a smile. He’s clearly in his element on the island, knowing every shortcut, every hidden cove, every place the ground is unsteady. Watching Gon on the island is like watching an artist, or a dancer maybe, how he carries himself with that exact same grace and ease and confidence. Killua can’t help but be mesmerized.

“Ready?” Killua asks, discarding his shirt and tossing it onto the towel, looking eagerly towards the sea.

Gon shakes his head.

“Not yet. We need sunscreen.”

Killua furrows his brow.

“Seriously?”

Gon sets his jaw in that distinctive, determined way of his.

“Yes, seriously. Your skin is so fair that you’ll burn in an instant if you don’t put some on.”

“Gon,” Killua sighs. “It’s a sunburn. I’ve had worse.”

Gon simply holds Killua’s gaze, feet planted wide and eyes resolute, for several long moments, until at last Killua relents. Of course he relents. He can’t imagine ever refusing Gon anything, not really.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Hand me the bottle.”

He shoves out a hand, palm up, and Gon digs the bottle from the bag and gives it to him. Killua squeezes some onto his palm--it isn’t unpleasant, really. Just a bit cold, but that’s welcome given the heat, and it smells nice. Like coconuts. Killua rubs it down his arms and chest and on his face before turning back to Gon.

“Happy now?”

“Nope,” Gon says. “I need to do your back and shoulders. You can’t reach those spots and they always burn the worst.”

Despite Killua’s best efforts, his heart clenches in his chest. It’s silly; it’s just sunscreen. It’s as chaste as could be. But the thought of Gon’s hands on his back, skimming over his shoulders and down his ribcage, lingering for just a moment on his waist, is utterly overwhelming. It doesn’t feel bad when Gon touches Killua, those rare, precious occasions he claps Killua on the shoulder or shoves him playfully in the chest or takes a stray eyelash from his cheek. Far from it. It’s simply intense. Incredibly, dizzyingly intense.

“Fine,” Killua says, his mouth suddenly dry.

He sits on the towel, his back to Gon. That’s a mercy, at least, that Killua’s facing away from him. That way he can’t see Killua’s eyes go wide when Gon places his hand on his back, or the inevitable flush of Killua’s cheeks, or the way his breath is bound to catch in his throat.

Gon squeezes out some sunscreen and places his hands on Killua’s shoulders. Killua gasps, just barely audible, in spite of himself. Gon’s hands are so large and gentle and firm and Killua does his utmost not to melt entirely, not to lean too obviously into the touch and beg for more. Gon grazes his hands across the tops of Killua’s shoulders and down the sides of his arms and Killua can hardly stand it. His breathing has gone fast and shallow and he only just manages to keep from sighing aloud as Gon runs his hands along Killua’s shoulder blades.

But all at once, Gon’s hands still.

“You can’t really tell from a distance,” Gon says softly.

“Tell what?” Killua asks, doing his utmost not to demand Gon start stroking his back again immediately.

“The scars. How many there are.”

Quite abruptly, a strange shame twists at Killua’s insides, and he feels oddly exposed. The warm, hazy pleasure of just a moment ago is gone, leaving only a squirming, wriggling discomfort.

Killua knows how his skin looks. He knows it’s marred by more rough, raised, silvery-pink scars than he can count. He knows his whole past can be read on his body, each instance of cruelty and violence and pain. But for Gon to say it so blatantly, for Gon to look at Killua’s skin and see him for exactly what he is, leaves a sick, heavy knot in Killua’s stomach.

“Well honestly, what did you expect?” Killua asks, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

For a long moment, Gon’s quiet

“Not this,” he says at last. And something about that tone, something about the mournful, hesitant way he speaks makes irritation begin to flicker to life in Killua’s chest.

“Gon,” Killua says, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. “Are you going to apply the sunscreen or are you going to sit there and mope about things I hardly even remember anymore?’

“I don’t believe that,” Gon says softly.

Killua sighs and turns to face Gon. He has a peculiar look in his eyes, something uncomfortably close to heartbreak, and Killua just can’t stand it. The flicker of irritation grows larger and hotter.

“Believe what?”

“I don’t believe that you hardly remember. Some of these look brutal. People don’t just forget about things like that.”

Killua clenches his jaw, shoulders raising in spite of himself.

“What does any of it matter anymore? It’s in the past. It’s over.”

Gon shakes his head.

“It matters. Even if it happened years ago. It still matters.”

“Gon, what more do you want me to say?” Killua snaps. “Honestly? Do you want me to go into graphic detail about every single time I’ve been injured? Is that what you want?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Gon says softly. “Don’t twist it around like that.”

And something about Gon’s calm, measured tone, something about how he won’t rise to Killua’s bait, won’t argue and bicker like they always do, sets Killua off. His pulse quickens and he gets hot and shaky like he always does when he’s cornered.

“No, Gon, really, let’s go there, huh?” Killua says, his voice strained and just a bit too loud. “Let’s talk about it, because that’s what you seem to want. The inside of my forearm here, look. All these little circular ones. Three guesses what did those.”

“Killua,” Gon begins, but Killua cuts him off. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, why he’s suddenly jumpy and panicked and out of control, but he finds he can’t stop.

“Cigarettes. They were Milluki’s. I was five, maybe, and there was a month or two when I was just a convenient ashtray. I don’t think it was a matter of training, or even anger, really. I think he simply needed to put them out and I just happened to be on hand.”

Killua can hear the hysteria creeping into the edges of his voice and he finds he can’t do a thing to prevent it. It’s as if he’s a car and the brakes have simply gone out entirely. He can’t stop, can’t swerve, can’t do anything but hold on for dear life as he continues to pick up speed.

“That one was easy though, right?” Killua continues, voice getting higher and shakier still. “We need more of a challenge. Alright, then how about these around my wrists? Any guesses?”

“Killua,” Gon says again, just as gently. He reaches out to place a hand on Killua’s knee, but Killua leaps to his feet and out of Gon’s reach. He couldn’t bear being touched right now.

“Zip ties,” Killua says. He doesn’t know when he started trembling so violently, but it’s quite obvious now that he’s standing, his legs shaking beneath him. “See, I wasn’t doing well one day. I’m supposed to hold still no matter what they do to me. No matter how much it hurts. But I kept flinching and trying to pull back. They finally had to tie me down because I couldn’t follow the rules, but I just never learn, right? I kept trying to get away. I fought so hard against the restraints that my wrists were torn to shreds by the time it was over. But hey, when you’re seven and you’re being tortured for hours, you don’t always think as clearly as you should.”

Killua is dangerously close to hyperventilating. He knows he should sit back down, breathe deeply and get a hold of himself, but he just can’t. The world has gone narrow, pressing in closer and closer on him until he can’t see a way out, can’t find a way up to the surface for air.

“Or how about my back? Those are the ones you saw, right? Those could be a number of things, really. Those long, thin ones were probably from when they would cut on me. They did that pretty often, so there’s gotta be a lot of scars. The really nasty ones, though, all thick and bumpy and raised, were probably from getting whipped. Cause, you know, that splits your skin open more often than not. Do you want me to tell you about that, Gon? Do you want me to describe how it felt, to get hit over and over until your legs finally give out?”

Killua’s breath comes in desperate, panicked stutters and his pulse pounds in his ears. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but the tears are hot and thick and heavy down his face.

“Do you really want to hear this, Gon? Really? Do you want me to tell you more about what they did to me? No, you don’t! Because no one wants to fucking hear this!”

A deep, gut-wrenching sob shakes Killua’s whole frame, and in an instant, Gon has gathered Killua up in his arms, holding him tight to his chest. Killua can’t find it in himself to push Gon away, not with the world pressing in on him from all sides, squeezing the air from his lungs, so he simply leans harder against Gon, desperate for comfort.

Gon eases the two of them to the ground and pulls Killua tighter to his chest, pressing a kiss to his hair and rubbing soothing circles on his back. Killua doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, why he can’t seem to get a goddamn grip, but he merely clings to Gon desperately as the ugly, agonized sobs convulse through his chest. Gon murmurs reassurances, keeps stroking Killua’s back and hair and holding him tight as Killua cries himself out. Killua knows he should be ashamed, knows this is ridiculous and repulsive and surely Gon will hate him for it, but he can’t bring himself to care, not with the anchor of Gon’s arms tight around him.

No one’s ever held Killua when he’s cried before, but he finds it helps. The warmth and pressure of Gon’s body against his eases the panic and terror and desperation. It’s so comforting, to be gathered into Gon’s arms, to be spoken to softly and kindly, to have Gon stroke his hair so gently. It’s far easier to breathe, far easier for Killua’s heart eventually to slow, with Gon holding him tight to his chest.

By the time Killua’s finally calmed down again, his eyes are swollen and sore and his head is throbbing. All at once, the guilt and shame catch up to him, almost knocking the air from his lungs, and he feels sick and hot all over. What the hell had just gotten into him? Why did he suddenly lose control like that? Surely Gon must hate him now, after that erratic, pathetic display. Surely Gon must be furious.

“I’m sorry,” Killua says softly, pulling back from Gon’s embrace and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what just got into me.”

Gon reaches out and takes Killua’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

“No. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Killua blinks, speechless for just a moment. He looks up into Gon’s eyes, and finds there isn’t any anger or repulsion or hatred there. Just a sad, fond sort of kindness.

“Yeah, I do,” Killua says. “I just freaked out on you for no reason.”

Gon shakes his head.

“It wasn’t for no reason. It’s really understandable, actually. You’ve never told anyone any of that before, right?”

Killua pauses for a moment.

“I guess not,” he murmurs.

“Exactly,” Gon says, stroking his thumb along the back of Killua’s hand. “You’d basically been walking around filled to the brim with dynamite. You’d never had the chance to take any of it out. You were packed full of it. And I just happened to light a match.”

Killua stares back at the ground, face hot.

“So I’m a time bomb.”

“Not at all,” Gon says. “Maybe that was a bad metaphor, then. Because you didn’t explode, not really. You didn’t scream at me. You weren’t cruel or violent. You were just upset. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Killua digs his toes into the sand, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Gon continues. “I’m sorry I pushed the subject, first of all, because I really should have left it alone when you didn’t want to talk about it. But I’m mostly sorry all of that happened to you. I just… I don’t like the thought of you being hurt, Killua. I don’t like knowing that you had to grow up being afraid and in pain all the time. It hurts a lot to hear about it, because I hate how much you’ve suffered. Because you don’t deserve to suffer. But at the same time, I always want to listen to you talk about it. Because the only thing worse than knowing all those awful things happened to you is knowing that you’re carrying it around by yourself all the time. So I’m glad, actually. I’m glad you told me a little bit about it, because now it’s not all bottled up inside you anymore.”

Killua looks up at Gon. At the sunlight kissing his tanned skin and the honest, earnest shine in his eyes and at the patch of freckles on his left shoulder. And he’s the most breathtaking, ethereal, radiant thing Killua has ever seen.

“You’re really kind, you know that?” Killua says, voice hardly above a whisper. “Too kind. It doesn’t even make sense.”

Gon takes Killua’s other hand and holds both of them to his own chest. Killua can feel his heartbeat, steady and comforting and strong.

“I’m not too kind,” Gon says firmly. “For you, there’s no such thing. You deserve kindness. All the time. From everyone. You deserve to be treated kindly.”

And something about the softness of Gon’s voice and the sunlight in his hair and the pressure of his sternum against Killua’s hands overwhelms Killua, and before he can think better of it, he wraps his arms around Gon’s waist and leans his head into Gon’s chest, pressing close.

“Always,” Gon murmurs into Killua’s hair, pulling him tighter, blissfully close and warm. “You always deserve to be treated kindly.”

**Author's Note:**

> you probably know the drill by now but just in case... thank you so very much for reading!!!! comments make my whole day & i reply to each one, so feel free to drop one & let me know what you think!!! i'm also very active on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hey!!! it's where i do the vast majority of my nerd stuff outside of ao3!!!!
> 
> take good care until i see you all again!!! xo


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